


A Christmas Carol

by marvelruinedmyspirit



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Christmas fic, Domestic Fluff, F/F, carol comes home for christmas and adopts a kree as a best friend on the way, does not tie in with the rest of the mcu, we're pretending that homophobia doesn't exist in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelruinedmyspirit/pseuds/marvelruinedmyspirit
Summary: Carol was halfway through the ordeal of getting rid of a Kree cruiser that had been bugging her for two entire days when the moment returned.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	A Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IvyOnTheHolodeck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyOnTheHolodeck/gifts).



> This is my Christmas gift for my lovely honeysuckle, Ivyontheholodeck. I would recommend reading all of her fics immediately.

Carol was halfway through the ordeal of getting rid of a Kree cruiser that had been bugging her for two entire days when the moment returned.

She was steering her ship, narrowly avoiding a passing asteroid and looking for one big enough to park her ship behind and wait for the cruiser to get lost in between the garbage that was this field. She’d thought of this plan back when she’d first realized she was being pursued, but whoever was in that cruiser was not only determined to catch her, but also seemed good at their job, which was a combination Carol was not a fan of in her enemies.

When she’d eventually spotted a donut-shaped mass on her radar, she’d thought her salvation was there, and allowed herself to relax a fraction. She glanced at the photograph she’d taped to the control panel. She’d found it a few days after her departure from Earth, in one of the suitcases Maria had given her. It was a polaroid picture of the two of them and Monica. The photo was old and paled by time, and so, the background was hard to see, but if the sugar staining Monica’s lips was any indication, they were at some kind of fair, and she could tell from their attires that it was winter.

Carol couldn’t remember. It was jarring, to see her own face, frozen forever in a moment she’d forgotten. The proof was there, she couldn’t deny its reality; but there was no trace of it in her mind.

Was it even her, if she didn’t remember? A person wasn’t much more than a sum of choices and actions, so how could it have been her, smiling at her… Her…

Her ship rattled.

“One last ride,” said Monica.

Carol blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting to the light of the garlands. Next to her, Maria shivered, squeezing her coat close to her body to shield herself from the cold.

“Please, Mommy,” Monica begged. “It’s the last day.”

“It  _ is _ the last day,” said Carol, batting her eyelashes at Maria, who glanced over her shoulder at the line for the ride. There were only a couple of people queueing, most of the patrons having already gone home for the night. Carol couldn’t blame them. The temperature had dropped significantly with the sun, and only the bravest of parents, or the ones with the most determined children, were left.

“Alright,” said Maria. “But it’s the last one, okay?” She shivered again. “I’m not going to freeze to death out here. That’s not how I go.”

“Go where?” Asked Monica.

“There,” said Carol, steering Monica to the back of the line. “We made it,” she cheered. “And no one froze!”

Monica, who was the easiest person to enthuse Carol had ever seen, surpassing even her, started cheering with Carol. Maria watched the two of them with a small smile. She waited until they were at the front of the line, and for Monica to be distracted, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the inside of the tent, which she’d been in three times that day, to inch closer to Carol, nudging her shoulder with her own.

Carol grinned at her. “Yes, my dear?”

“My hands are cold,” complained Maria.

“Do you want my gloves?” Asked Carol.

Maria bit her lower lip. “But then  _ your _ hands will be cold,” she told Carol.

Carol made a show of pondering the problem. “Oh, here’s an idea.” She took one of her gloves off and gave it to Maria, before taking her gloveless hand and linking their bare fingers together. Maria let out a short laugh.

“That’s a solution,” she admitted, as if this hadn’t been her plan all along.

“It’s our turn,” said Monica.

They took their seat on the train, and rode in silence as the notes of Let It Snow followed them around the winter wonderland décor. Carol had to admit, she’d had worse evenings. There were not a lot of opportunity to witness snow in Los Angeles, and the white, almost sugary powder which had been sown across the floor and over the roofs of gingerbread houses and the branches of trees, could hardly compare to the real thing, but it would have to do.

(Once, she and her parents had gone to a cabin in Minnesota, when she was very young. She didn’t remember much about the trip, but she did remember standing in the driveway and watching snowflakes tumble from the sky, and trying to catch them by sticking out her tongue.

One day, she and Maria would have to take Monica somewhere like that.)

They stopped in front of a puppet Santa waving his hand in short jerks.

“Ho, ho, ho,” said Santa. It made Maria laugh quietly next to her. Carol waited for her to turn and kissed her. Maria’s lips were cold and tasted like the cotton candy they’d shared earlier, and it was delightful.

“Eww, kissing,” said Monica. “Again.”

Maria and Carol reached blindly behind them to cover the poor, poor girl’s eyes, and Monica ducked her head, giggling.

Carol held her hand to Maria to help her down the ride, and grabbed Monica like a potato sack and threw her over her shoulder, hopping down the wagon.

“You don’t need to showcase how strong you are,” Maria said slyly. “You may be wearing a coat right now, I still remember what your arms look like.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” replied Carol. “Showing off to impress a lady? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“Of course not.”

This was the way Carol loved Maria best; when she was trying to repress a smile, but couldn’t quite. Her eyes, crinkled at the corners, shone brighter than any star in the sky. Next to their light, the sun was a mere candle, and the garlands of the Market were barely anything at all.

“Can we come back again next year?” Asked Monica, looking at the stalls with preliminary longing. The vendors were already packing up the merch they hadn’t sold, and Carol could admit that she understood the feeling. As an adult, it was hard to find that Christmas spirit, but with Monica around, it was easy to believe in that brand of magic, to feel that special crispness in the air.

“Sure,” said Carol. “We’ll come back.” It was a simple promise, based on habit; Monica would be older, but still young enough that she would still enjoy going to Christmas Markets, and Carol and Maria would be there to take her. Simple.

“One last thing before we go,” said Maria. She hailed a passerby, and handed them her camera. “Pose, girls,” she ordered.

Monica grinned, and Carol knelt beside her. Maria joined them and pressed her face next to her daughter’s.

“Ready?” Asked the photographer. “Cheese!” He clicked on the button, and the flash went off, blinding Carol for a second.

Her ship rattled when her pursuer made contact with it. Carol grabbed the wheel, trying to stabilize it and remember when she’d dropped it, but she was too late. It whirled to the side, and was impaled by the Kree cruiser, which rushed her against an asteroid big enough to host the Little Prince and his rose.

She had the presence of mind to activate her suit’s helmet. It spread around her head as she watched the metal of the main deck being torn apart, the glass of the bay window shattering on impact and giving her an unobstructed view of space. Once, during a mission for Starforce, one of her teammates had told her that one could get used to everything, if giving enough exposure to it. And sure, he meant the pain of an injury, but his statement had been general.

Carol disagreed. There were things she’d never stop finding beautiful. The bright white light of stars against the inky backdrop of space; snowflakes falling on the driveway of a cabin; Maria’s laughing face.

Carol thought, “That’s not how I go,” right before she passed out.

* * *

She breathed in, relief and sweet oxygen filling her lungs. She was out of her ship, which she could see, blurry in the distance. There was a silhouette, pacing next to her, and when Carol’s eyes focused, she saw that it was a familiar face.

“Phyla-Vell?” She called weakly as she sat up. Her legs felt sore, but she didn’t feel anything broken. Except for her fucking ride. “What the fuck, you T-boned my ship!” She exclaimed.

“Ah, good, Vers, you’re awake,” Phyla-Vell said coldly. She held up a hand and pulled Carol up on her feet.. “Now, do you care to explain why on Hala your ship is on the Wanted Blast?”

Carol crossed her arms. “You didn’t hear?”

“No, obviously I did, that’s why I’m asking,” Phyla-Vell deadpanned.

It had escaped Carol, in all of the confusion with Earth and the Skrulls and… Everything, that there were Krees she’d grown fond of. Phyla-Vell was one of them. They’d been on one mission together, not enough to form a friendship, but enough for Carol to realize that Phyla-Vell wasn’t just a more-than-competent fighter, she was also a little shit, which suited Carol perfectly.

Her brother was a dick, but that was something else entirely.

“I defected,” said Carol.

Phyla-Vell snorted. “Yeah, good one.”

“No, I did.”

“Why?”

Carol shrugged. “It’s a long story,” she told her. “But basically, the Kree empire is evil.” It occurred to her that saying this to a Kree warrior who had destroyed her ship and would have attempted to destroy her if they hadn’t been acquaintances may not have been her smartest move yet.

“Oh, okay,” said Phyla-Vell. “It’s evil, huh? And I guess you’re not going to give any more explanation, right?” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s go.”

She moved to grab Carol, who batted her arm away. “I’m sorry, where are we going?”

“Home,” said Phyla-Vell. “I’m bringing you to Yon-Rogg, so that we can clear this whole…”

“Yeah, I beat his ass, so I don’t think he’s going to be very happy to see me,” said Carol. She frowned, amended, “I won’t lie, I’m not going to be very happy to see him either. He’s a real douche.”

Phyla-Vell stared at her. “Are you just now realizing that he’s a scumbag? Because I could have told you that. He tried grabbing my ass one time. I had to kick him in the crotch to teach him some manners.”

“A Kree after my own heart,” Carol declared. “But I’m serious. I really defected.”

“Vers, all due respect, this is madness.”

“It wouldn’t be madness if you knew the whole story!” Exclaimed Carol, exasperated. “And my name is Carol, not Vers.”

“Are you going to tell me the whole story, then?” Challenged Phyla-Vell. “Because you berate me for my ignorance, but you said that my people was evil as if it was a matter of course, and that it was a long story, but I didn’t hear an explanation. Am I supposed to accept…”

“Fine,” said Carol. “I’m going to tell you. But first, you have to fly me somewhere.”

* * *

Phyla-Vell was a rational individual, and she turned out to be much more patient than Carol would have imagined, but she was a Kree, and she had spent her entire life being taught that her people was good and that she was fighting on the right side of the war.

Needless to say, it took Carol most of the flight to talk some sense into her.

“But the Skrulls are…”

“I know,” Carol said, and they’d been going in circles for hours and she was starting to lose it. “The Supreme Intelligence told you they were bad. I get it. It told me the same thing. But…”

“It’s the Supreme Intelligence,” Phyla-Vell insisted. “It couldn’t have been wrong. It’s not built for it.”

“Do you realize how stupid that was, what you just said?” Asked Carol. “Who told you that it was built to be right? The people who built it. I wonder why they’d lie to you about it. Oh wait, I know! To convince you to fight for them. Use your brain, Phyla-Vell.”

“I liked you better when you were thirsting for Yon-Rogg,” muttered Phyla-Vell.

“Excuse me?”

Phyla-Vell glanced at her, smirking, before looking back through the windshield. Spaceshield. Whatever. “Please, Ver… Carol. That was so obvious. And look, I’m not saying that you did it entirely to get ahead, but it’s what everyone in Starforce says, and, well, I’m sure there must be something attractive about him, but personally…”

“Did what?” Asked Carol. “Also, no, there’s nothing attractive about him whatsoever, but did what?”

Phyla-Vell took one hand off the steering control to wave. “You know.” She paused, clearing her throat. “Don’t make me say it, it’s bad enough that I have the mental image now.”

“For the love of… I wasn’t sleeping with him!” Phyla-Vell rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t! I’m… I’m gay.”

“I’m glad, although I don’t see how stating your mood is relevant to this conversa…”

“I like women,” Carol snapped. “And even if I was interested in men, I hope I’d have better taste than to be interested in Yon-Rogg.”

“I see,” said Phyla-Vell. She considered it, humming thoughtfully. “I mean, I did think it was rather stupid of you. If you had to sleep with anyone, you could have picked someone better.”

“Like who?” Challenged Carol.

“Ni-Vegg. She works at the strategy bureau. According to the Supreme Intelligence, she has a very promising career ahead of her. Or there’s Phy-Emm. I met her at a mixer party. I don’t actually know what she does, but something to do with stats. Who cares, though, right? Or you know Kar-Penn?”

“Kar-Penn’s not gay,” argued Carol, a bit dizzy.

“Sure. She’s not super fun, but she does prefer women.”

“How do you know that?”

Phyla-Vell laughed. “You’re not very bright, are you?  _ Now  _ who’s the one who needs to use her brain?”

Oh, thought Carol. Well, if she’d known there were lesbians in Hala, she would have partied more while she was there.

“There's something I don't get,” said Phyla-Vell.

“Shoot,” said Carol.

Phyla-Vell startled. “What? Who? Where?”

“No, I mean, ask.”

“Oh.” She stared through the spaceshield, or possibly at it. “You said you were scouring the universe, trying to find surviving Skrulls and bringing them all together.”

Her tone was neutral, but the twist of her mouth told Carol that she still found the idea distasteful, even with the new information Carol had provided.

“Yup,” said Carol, faux-nonchalant. “And protecting them from Starforce and Ronan's band of merry psychopaths.”

Phyla-Vell pressed her lips together. “If you say so. But then why are you going back?”

Carol swallowed. “Excuse me?”

“The coordinates you gave me, they're for Earth.”

“Yeah,” said Carol, “and?”

“And that's the opposite direction from where you were headed when I started chasing you,” she continued.

“Yes,” said Carol. “I'm a pilot. Don't be fooled by my  _ joie de vivre _ , I'm not stupid. I know where I asked you to drop me off.”

Phyla-Vell spared her an annoyed glance. “Why are you going back to Earth? Are there still more Skrulls there? Did you forget one of them?”

“I don't know, they're pretty good at sneaking around, so there might be.” Phyla-Vell sighed, aggravated, and Carol, in a rare dash of good will, answered her. “It's the day before Christmas.”

Phyla-Vell frowned. “What the fuck is that?”

“It's a holiday on Earth. They decorate the house and make a lot of food. It ties in with the shortest day of the year.”

“Ah,” said Phyla-Vell. “Then it's a pagan ritual. I've seen it in other primitive planets.”

Carol tilted her head. “...Sure. Anyway, they use it as an excuse to get all the family together. It's nice.”

“Is there chanting too?”

“I know you're being sarcastic, but yes, there is some chanting. They call it caroling.” Phyla-Vell opened her mouth, but Carol cut her off. “Before you ask, yes, like my name, and no, I wasn't named after that.”

“If you say so," Phyla-Vell said again. “So you're going back to be with your family for your pagan ritual?”

Carol bit her lower lip. “Maybe,” she allowed. To Phyla-Vell's credit, she didn't press her for more, which gave her some time to pick her next words carefully. “I think I... was committed.”

“To going home for Christmas?”

“That, but not only. I think I was committed to someone.” Well. That would be sometwo, in fact. “I think I was in love.”

“You think? You’re not sure?”

“I told you about my memory problems, didn’t I?”

Phyla-Vell frowned. “Did she say that the two of you used to date?”

“No,” Carol replied crossly. “I remembered something. I promised her and her daughter that we’d go to the Christmas Market together.”

“Sappy,” commented Phyla-Vell.

“I don’t recall asking for your input.”

“No worries, it came for free.”

* * *

Maria and Monica were already at the door when Carol exited Phyla-Vell’s ship. It was late at night, probably way past Monica’s bedtime, but it could have been midday, she was so excited. She ran up to Carol and hugged her.

Maria hung back, staring at the two of them, at the ship and at Phyla-Vell, who, Carol saw as she glanced back, hadn’t resisted following her out, and was examining her surrounding with obvious contempt.

“Aunt Carol,” said Monica, “you brought another alien?”

“I told her about candy canes, and she begged me to take her here.”

They joined Maria on the porch of the house. “Monica,” she said, “go inside and heat up some leftover turkey.”

Monica, practically vibrating with curiosity, tore her eyes away from Phyla-Vell and rushed inside to obey her mother.

“Hey,” said Carol. “Sorry to drop in unannounced.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve come to expect that lack of manners from you anyway.” She nodded at Phyla-Vell, who was kicking a nearby potted plant, like the perfect nuisance she was. “Has she come here to destroy my garden?”

“Technically, she wanted to arrest me, but I sort of invited her over for Christmas.” She cleared her throat. “Lack of manners it is.”

Maria averted her eyes, fighting off a smile. “Unbelievable. Hey,” she called out. “I’m Maria.”

Phyla-Vell smirked. “Oh, I’ve heard of you. I’m Phyla-Vell.”

“Can I call you Phyla?”

“Absolutely not.” She picked up another pot and lifted it to eye level, inspecting it with narrowed eyes.

Maria turned back to Carol. “I like her.”

“She’s alright,” agreed Carol. “Is it really fine? That I’m here, I mean.”

“I thought you’d be away much longer.” Maria smiled. “I’m glad you came back.”

Carol shrugged. “I told Monica we’d go back to the Christmas Market. I guess I missed that appointment by a few years, but it seemed a shame not to go this time.” She frowned. “Does she still believe in Santa?”

“She’s eleven.”

“Ugh. Oh, well, at least there’s Phyla-Vell. On the way here, I convinced her that plants sometimes came to life and strangled people in their sleep. We can definitely con her into believing in Santa.”

Maria shook her head and wrapped an arm around Carol’s waist. “We can do that tomorrow.”

Carol allowed herself to be pulled towards the door. They  _ could  _ do that tomorrow. They could do that, and they could go all to the Market together, and they could talk about love and family and visits and figure all this stuff out. Tomorrow.

In the meantime, she could hear the microwave humming as it heated up Carol’s delicious meal, which she would only share if Phyla-Vell was exceptionally nice, and she could see Monica, waving at them to hurry up and get inside through the window above the kitchen sink.

“Happy to be home?” Maria asked her.

Carol grinned. Beautiful. “You don’t have the faintest idea, my dear,” she said, and they crossed the threshold together.

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after and Phyla-Vell was the Kree of honor at their wedding. The end.


End file.
